


Perfect

by ficteer



Series: basia [3]
Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, background abemiha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 09:34:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3376607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficteer/pseuds/ficteer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not yet, Tajima thought, licking his lips. He could wait. He could wait until it could be perfect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> [accidentally falls in love with tajihana while writing them in pacrim] parkour
> 
> just a little kiss fic ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

There was only one thing between Tajima and the one thing he wanted most - well, two, he supposed,  _technically_  speaking. Two things that curled into a frown as he gripped his hands tightly, swinging the bat mindlessly around his feet as his eyes stared wide and blatantly at this Thing he wanted- ok, two things,  _technically_  speaking. Two things - lips,  _Hanai’s_  lips, specifically, pink and wet and  _perfect_.

Tajima  _really_  wanted to kiss him.

The thought had come unbidden a few weeks ago, in the middle of class one bright spring morning, startling him into sitting up straight at his desk as if stricken by lightning. His classmates had bellowed out in laughter at his indignant squawk, and his teacher, far less amused, had kept him behind on cleaning duty even though it wasn’t his turn. He’d dashed to the clubroom as soon as he was finished, door banging open as he arrived just in time to see everyone else finish getting dressed for practice.

But it was that same afternoon that he realized that he couldn’t kiss Hanai, not yet, because the Thing that was between him and a nice smooch went between his teeth the moment his eyes locked with Hanai across the room, watching, enraptured with each sweep of a stick of chapstick over the captain’s mouth, and Tajima’s steady awareness with a slight scrape of teeth that his own lip was definitely chapped from the summer sun. These two things, his chapped lips he’d never really paid too much attention to before, would make a smooch definitely less than perfect, and Tajima Yuuichirou did not settle for less than perfect.

And thus had begun Tajima’s careful regimen: as soon as he woke up, before morning practice, at lunch, before afternoon practice, as soon as he got home, and one last time before bed, he applied liberal amounts of his own chapstick, very carefully covering each bit. And now, almost three weeks later, his lips were very definitely softer. Here he was now, standing by the batting cages watching Hanai practice mixing up his hits, calling out their locations like Tajima had done their first summer while sweat traced the skin he was just dying to taste and all around  _sparkling_  in the kind of way Tajima would have been sure would have been obvious to everyone, except he’d kind of asked Mihashi about it once and gotten enough of a dumb look that Tajima had finally settled into the knowledge that no one really  _watched_  Hanai like he did.

It was baffling how they  _couldn’t_ , Tajima thought, eyes going from Hanai’s (perfect, soft, well-moisturized) lips down to his cutting jaw, a neck long and slender, disappearing into the kind of shoulders Tajima was just dying to dig his fingernails into. Each twist of Hanai’s torso accented his narrow waist, though Tajima had definitely peeked in the showers and knew that beneath that cotton was a topography worthy a grand expedition to explore. His tongue darted out eagerly over his (more moisturized than before, not quite chapped, almost ready) lips, a soft hiss of breath coming out as his eyes fell even lower to Hanai’s  _godly_ hips.  _Fuck_  but he wanted to clench his legs around them, feel Hanai move against him while their tongues curled and Tajima bruised Hanai’s mouth with his own, and it was only by letting his gaze rise back again to Hanai’s back that he managed to cool the blood heating quickly in his veins. Here, at least, he could imagine instead what it would be like to kiss a line up Hanai’s long spine, maybe leave butterfly kisses on the back of his neck, maybe then see if the curve of his smile matched the slope of Hanai’s shoulder.

Tajima finally managed to pull himself out of Hanai’s stellar figure, going to enter the batter box and stand across from the batting machine as Hanai passed him, casting him in shadow as Hanai reached up to take the hat off his head and wipe his forehead on his bicep. Tajima blinked up at him, and when Hanai’s eyes met his own, he couldn’t help the way his eyes flicked down to where Hanai’s lips were parted to take in breaths after exerting himself, couldn’t stop the wicked grin that split his face even if he’d really wanted to.

“What’re you looking at?” Hanai grumbled, pulling his hat back on his head and looking away, and perhaps anyone else who hadn’t studied Hanai like Tajima could would have failed to notice the slightly different splotchy redness on Hanai’s face. But Tajima had a terminal degree in this field, and he licked his lips carefully, testing - ah, no, not quite yet, he thought, settling for reaching up to pinch Hanai’s shoulder lightly in a friendly gesture that wasn’t quite what he wanted, but what he’d settle for, for now.

“I’m lookin at  _you_ , of course! Nice hitting, Hanai!” Tajima beamed, taking the baseball bat in his hands and slinging it onto his shoulder as he stepped past Hanai and settled into place, fingers gripping into place and body relaxing completely as he let Hanai trickle from his conscious back to his unconscious, where he always lingered these days. Then, because he couldn’t let Hanai forget just which one of them was the baseball god to the first years, “Pitcher’s feet!” he called, swinging and planting the ball exactly there. He could all but hear Hanai’s cranky grumbling, and the thought had him hitting even better, knowing that right now Hanai was watching him like he’d watched Hanai, maybe even studying  _him_  like he’d studied Hanai, all of the lines of his body he definitely was in no way ashamed of (and had, unless he was projecting, caught Hanai ogling).

Practice stretched on long beneath the warming sun, and before long it was time for them to return to the clubroom to shower and get changed for the bike ride home. Tajima slung an arm around Mihashi’s neck, pulling the blond close because no one really  _got_  him like Mihashi did, and besides Mihashi had long confided his crush on Abe in him, and it felt only right that he return the favor. He licked his lips one more time to confirm, and with a satisfied flutter in his chest, he squeezed his hold even tighter until their foreheads were about pressed together, whispering conspiratorially at the front of the group meandering to the clubhouse.

“Hey, I need your help with something,” he said, and Mihashi huddled in, eyes wide and nodding quickly in his eagerness to be needed. “Okay, so, I’m going to need you to go up to Hanai tomorrow for afternoon practice and tell him I’m stripping behind the dugout, okay? Right before we have batting practice.”

“Just…?” Mihashi said, and Tajima nodded, reaching over and pinching Mihashi’s nose.

“Yep! Just that. And don’t worry about sounding smooth or anything. Just act natural. You’ll be awesome!” Mihashi’s nods about ripped his head off, his hands coming up to clench at his chest as his lips pressed into a firm, determined line.

“I’ll do it, Tajima-kun!” he said, and Tajima ruffled his hair, keeping his arm around Mihashi’s neck as he leaned back, letting his laughter fill the air with all the excitement he couldn’t contain in his chest. It burned brightly inside of him the rest of the way, even as he looked over his shoulder and saw Hanai’s eyes locked on his back before they darted away, cheeks burning and having Tajima’s legs tingling with the need to run ten kilometers to burn the excess energy.

And then, after he’d showered and studied the stretch of Hanai’s positively  _delicious_  arm muscles as the captain cleaned himself of an afternoon of sweat, and then the slow pull of tan line demarcations as Hanai got dressed, the pale skin disappearing beneath the white button up as Tajima stared as subtly as possible (which was, he was pretty sure, not very subtly at all). Tajima diligently pulled his chapstick out of his bag, uncapping it and swiping it slow and thick on his lower lip, then his upper lip, and then repeating it again, until he was satisfied that the application was successful. He tucked the tube back into place, and tugged his bag straps on his shoulder. He looked to Mihashi, about to tell the blond to hurry  _up_  so they could get on the road, but he was stopped by Hanai’s hand firm on his bicep, fingers curling around and tugging gently.

“Hey, um, come on, I have something to ask,” Hanai said, and Tajima blinked up at him, then looked to Mihashi, who was looking at  _Abe_ , who was looking at  _Hanai_  and really this was a scene more appropriate for one of Nishihiro’s manga than it was for real life, but Abe’s scowl told him all he needed to know, and really, Tajima wasn’t going to complain with some alone time with Hanai.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, playing along for now, following the captain out and looking back as the door shut, flashing Abe a thumb’s up and watching with a snicker as the catcher flashed bright red and scowled something fierce at him. He muffled the sound in his palm as he turned, slipping his hands in his pockets and starting to walk towards the bikes as a pleased sensation settled in his gut. Abe was pretty incapable of messing that up, after all, though he certainly didn’t look like he knew that.

“So, uh,” Hanai started, and Tajima looked at him, eyes widening as a bewildered expression crossed his face.

“Oh, you mean you really did have something you wanted to ask?” he asked, and they paused, Hanai staring down at him incredulously (son of a  _bitch_  two years and Hanai still had a good five centimeters on him). Tajima tilted his head. “Abe asked you to get him and Mihashi alone, right?”

“ _How_  the  _hell_  did you - ?!”

“Man, Hanai, you really  _are_  oblivious, aren’t you? You totally think I didn’t notice? It’s a good thing you’re in the baseball club, not the drama club.” Tajima asked, hand reaching up to run through his hair. Hanai spluttered, cheeks burning and fists clenching at his thighs.

“I am  _not_ oblivious!” Hanai snapped, finger coming to settle in Tajima’s face, close enough to his nose that he felt his eyes go cross-eyed trying to look at it. “You - ! You’ve been…!”

“Me?” Tajima said, and he looked away from Hanai’s finger to his face, watching the color go from the embarrassed red to the flustered red, the same shade it got whenever Tajima knew he was turning his bedroom eyes up a little too much for poor Hanai to take. He felt the wicked streak flare to life, and he saw the moment his face must have matched the devious mood when Hanai’s mouth twisted and his blush stretched down to his neck and up to his ears. “What am I doing, Hanai?”

“ _Don’t you play innocent -_!” Hanai hissed, pulling back and diverting his gaze, arms crossing. Tajima licked his lips one final time, and though his lips weren’t quite as soft and perfect as Hanai’s looked, this moment was definitely the best he was going to get, better even than the spontaneous behind-the-dugout romance he’d planned up that morning in class (because, you know, math was  _boring_ , and daydreaming about the different ways he was gonna suck Hanai’s tongue until neither of them could breathe was  _not_ ).

“I’m not playing innocent,” Tajima responded, watching as Hanai’s eyes looked back to his face, and then fell carefully, each of Tajima’s freckles burning beneath Hanai’s careful study, until finally his lips tingled as much as if Hanai was physically touching them. Tajima reached out his hand, letting his fingers twist the fabric hot with Hanai’s body heat, and he pulled at the same time that Hanai came forward.

But Hanai didn’t kiss him; his forehead pressed against Tajima’s, letting his nose brush against Tajima’s, his fingers clutching Tajima’s sides and pulling them closer until Tajima was molded to Hanai’s body, and just as he’d expected, his fingers found a very comfortable home on Hanai’s shoulders, clutching even as his eyes stared, wide at where Hanai’s were half-lidded and hot. “I’m not oblivious,” Hanai said, one last little quip because he  _always_  had to have the last word, didn’t he, but Tajima was more than happy to give it to him because their lips finally -  _finally_  - came together and it was  _absolutely perfect_.

He abandoned Hanai’s broad, excellent shoulders and instead reached up to clutch at his long neck, parting his lips on an exhale and running his teeth over Hanai’s lower lip before he closed his own over it, delighting in the softness that came from Hanai’s habitual moisturizing, sticky sweet and minty with his last application mixing with Tajima’s, tingling his tongue until he slid it in Hanai’s mouth and traced the dip of his teeth. And then, Hanai’s tongue curled around his, a hand releasing Tajima’s hip and instead clutching Tajima’s nape, tilting his head and leaning him back. It was sloppy and wet, everything Tajima had figured it would be with a hot mess like Hanai, made only better by the sharp intake of air when he sank his nails in Hanai’s neck and purred a sound into Hanai’s lungs to make up for his lost breath.

“Fuck,” Hanai muttered against his mouth, quivering intently even as Tajima stepped up to his tip toes, smooching him again, and again, on his mouth, around, his chin, then to his jaw where he let his tongue scrape the stubble and let their groans mingle together. “Tajima…”

“You’re totally oblivious,” Tajima panted, a little light-headed with the fact that he could hardly breathe but feeling the grin all the same, his forehead resting against Hanai’s jaw as he leaned forward to suck gently on Hanai’s sun-kissed throat. “I was gonna have Mihashi get you behind the dugout tomorrow so we could make out. I was thinkin I might even get lucky and get to blow you.”

“ _Tajima!”_  Hanai startled, though whether it was from Tajima’s admission or the way he suddenly sank his teeth into the soft skin just above his collar, he was pretty sure neither of them knew. He did, however, know that the press of Hanai’s fingers as they slid through his belt loops was answer enough for just how golden his luck was. He’d have to thank Abe, later, he supposed, looking over to the clubhouse from beneath Hanai’s hickey’d throat and noticing all-too keenly that their battery was still very much inside.

“Hey, come on. We’ve gotta go spy on them for blackmail,” Tajima said, threading his fingers through Hanai’s and pulling him back to the clubhouse. Behind him, Hanai fell into place more not to fall than out of any actual interest, scandalized out of making any protests. Tajima let his laughter spill between them, feeling as full as a summer day and twice as warm.

It had  _definitely_ been worth the wait.

 


End file.
